


Lost Paradise

by AppleScruff



Category: One Direction (Band), Richard the Lionheart - Fandom
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, First Time Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, M/M, Slow Burn, Smut, historical fiction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2014-09-08
Packaged: 2018-02-11 17:46:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2077344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AppleScruff/pseuds/AppleScruff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's 1191 and Richard the Lionheart has come to Israel to free Jerusalem from the Muslim invaders. </p><p>During one of his raids he comes across a young farm boy. Captivated by the young boy's beautiful looks, he takes him under his wing. </p><p>Zayn is only eighteen years old when he's taken. At first he hates his captor with the fire of a thousand suns but as time progresses, hates turns into passion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Clothes, foods and characters are historically accurate. The rest is changed for the purpose of the story. Zayn's etnicity is changed for the same reason.

As the sun starts its slow decend, Zayn is sitting outside his small house. His legs are sprawled out in front of him as he puts them to rest after a hard day of work. The ache in his muscles and bones is a pleasant one, because he has known it all his life. It's a familiar feeling that reassures him that even though the world around him changes, some things stay the same. 

The chair he's sitting on creaks as he shifts his weight. Zayn is glad he can hear the barely audible sound because it means his ears are still working, even at his old age. 

Birds tweet as they flit from branch to branch. Every few minutes one of them tries to peck at a date hanging from the trees but almost always their attents are futile. A smile grades Zayn's lips whenever he sees a bird fly away with what appears to his eyes a frown on their small faces. 

Behind Zayn the door suddenly opens with a groan, which is then followers by the sound of shuffling footsteps. 

"Zayn, dear," a soft voice says in Arabic and a few seconds later Zayn's wife appears to the side of his fielt of vision. She send him a smile he's learned to love over the years. "Why do you insist on being out here on your own?"

Zayn's wife Nadiya's looks have not waned over the years. She's still as beautiful as on the day he met her, even now that her once chestnut locks are grey and her almond coloured eyes are now lined by wrinkels. She always tells him Fortuna as been kind to him as well. 

Looks have once been his most important asset. His tan skin, weary frame and sharp jawline had been the things that had saved him from the Frankish knights all those years ago. Surely, if he hadn't pretty back then the king wouldn't have saved him and he would have perished along with his parents and siblings. 

Little wimpers of exertion fall from Nadiya's lips as she sits down on the chair she had dragged along with her. Zayn smiles at her and moven his hand so they cover hers. He gives them a squeezes before letting his hand rest there. 

"What were you thinking about?" Nadiya asks, her melodious voice blending perfectly with the bird song that comes from between the trees. 

Zayn doesn't answer right away. Instead, his eyes flit from his wife's face to the garden in front of him. All of the trees planted in the patch of land are carrying dates. He started growing them when he'd left his old life behind and now they're his lifelihood. Thanks to the money he gets from selling his dates he was able to secure himself a wife and his children a childhood without the knowledge of hunger. 

"I was just thinking about how quiet it is," Zayn tells his wife. "I'm glad we don't live in the city."

To anyone but himself Zayn's Arabic may seem pure but to his own ears it sounds off. He can clearly hear the Frankish influence in the way he pronounces his mother tongue. The years he has send with the crusaders has Marked him almost in every way. 

"I'm glad I married a farmer, indeed," Nadiya comments as her eyes too fall on there's Zayn is looking at. "No shouting merchants by day and no shouting drunk men by night. All we hear here are the wind and the birds."

"I miss the sound of young children, though," Zayn admits. He lets out a sigh as a melancholic feeling settles over him. "Sometimes I wake up and expect Aicha to come running into our room to wake us up or Afaf to yell at us because Abu stole one of her toys again."

It's been years since their youngest child has come of age but some days it only seems like yesterday. Zayn has days that he wants to forget that his three children are no longer living at home and have grown-up sons and daughters of their own. The feeling that the people he loves are slipping away from him makes him want to hold on to them a little bit longer. 

"I know what you mean," Nadiya replies. Her eyes glaze over and Zayn knows his eyes must look the same. "Every parent probably has difficulty with letting their children go."

Zayn guesses that's true but he can't help but think the loss hurts him a little bit more. So many people have already left his life - his parents, siblings and his one true love. 

Not wanting to share these thoughts with his wife, Zayn remarks, "Did you know today it's been 52 years since King Richard died."

The smile disappeared from Nadiya's face. She turns her head and looks at her husband with sad eyes. "That' what put you in this mood, then?"

Zayn gives his wife a watery smile as his eyes travel to were their fingers are intertwined. Guilt claws at his throat at the unappropriatness of talking about the subject of the English king with his wife. She knows about his history with the English king but she doesn't know how deep their relationship had gone. He had never told her he used to share king Richard's bed. 

Because she would never understand. Zayn himself doesn't understand it either, even now. Falling for the enemy, no matter how charming they are, devies all reason, Zayn supposes. Nobody in their right mind could give their heart to someone who murdered their parents and so many others of their fellow country men. 

But Zayn had and he wouldn't change it even if he could. Because Richard had been so much more than a lover to him. He had been Zayn's world for such a long time and Zayn had been his. He had shared so much with the older man during the two years they spend together. It had changed Zayn forever. 

"I'm sorry," Zayn aplogizes. "I didn't want to bother you with my bad mood. That's why I went outside."

"It's alright. You didn't have to," Nadiya assures him. She squeezes his hand and suddenly tears well up in his eyes. 

Zayn lets his head fall on his wife's shoulder as the salty liquid makesits way down his tam cheeks. Nadiya wraps her arm around his waist as she pulls him closer. 

Vivid images flit in front of Zayn's eyes as he presses them closed. Memories of sixty years ago fill his mind as his tears dampen the black cloth of his wife's dress.


	2. Act I: Capture I

The hot, summer sun is beating down the army lying in wait just outside the village, their armor heating them up like buns in an oven. The surcoats prevent the pale men from turning crispy but there's still a lot of heat that can't escape from the metal prison.

 

Richard can hear the bustling from the village as his men prepare to attack. The villagers are going about their daily business, not knowing it will be soon interrupted. They don't know a small army of Christians are preparing to pillages their homes.

 

The men are waiting for Richard's signal. Most of them are watching the village with hungry eyes while others have their eyes on the English king. One of the men watching Richard is Liam, a knight from Wolverhampton who he has grown close to. Even though they each are from different social standing they'd befriended each other because despite their difference, they have things in common. Liam has become somewhat of Richard's right hand.

 

"The men are waiting, Sir," the younger man reminds Richard. His horse is restless, treading the hot sand next to the king's horse while remaining standing.

 

"Right, I know," Richard murmurs as he tears his eye away from the village. He gives his friend a nod before forcing his horse forward.

 

It doesn't take the king long to reach the front line of his army - his men parting like the sea for Moses. Richard turns his horse around so he's facing his troops and lets his eyes travel over the sea of knights. Most of them are French noblemen, send to the promised land together with English knights now that England and France are at peace once again. It wouldn't surprise Richard of some of them have fought each other on the battlefield a few years ago.

 

But whether they're English or they're French, all of them have the same dream, the same goal to get to paradise when they die: freeing Jerusalem from the heretics. The pope has asked them to drive the Muslims from the city so Christian pilgrims can safely visit The Saviors grave.

 

"Listen, my men," Richard starts his speech and at once the army grows quiet. "Today we're going to refill our provisions. When I give you the sign, you will ride to the village and raid all the homes, barns and taverns. Take all the food and water you can carry and then we're going to regroup on this spot again. Together we will ride back to the main camp."

 

This is the way they've done the raids the two months they've already spend in the promised land but Richard always repeats his instructions because knowing his men, some of them may forget them of he doesn't.

 

Richard turns his horse around again. This is always his favorite part. Excitement and pride bubbles up as he puts his sword in the air and calls out, "Go with God."

 

Pressing his feet against the sides of his horse, Richard forces it into a gallop, riding towards the village at top speed. His men follow, their swords glittering in the sun as they descend unto the unsuspecting village.

 

\------

 

A boy who's been born and raised in the village is making his way down a small mountain path. He's seated on his family's donkey and clad in only short trousers. He's just come from Nazareth and is on his way home. The small purse strapped to his waist is not filled with coins he's earned from selling his dad's dates, like usual. The only thing in the small, leather pouch is a small bottle filled with medicine.

 

His father has fallen ill two days ago and it isn't looking too good. He needs help but help doesn't come cheap. Zayn had gone to the city first thing in the morning to sell the whole date harvest and bring the medicine back. It had been the first time he'd gone without his father.

 

The first thing that alerts Zayn that's something's going on is the lack of bird song. Usually, when the eighteen-year-old is near his village, the birds in the trees welcome him back but today they're suspiciously quiet.

 

Zayn's heart begins to beat more rapidly as fear starts to creep up on him. Could it be that someone's attacking the small village even though nobody has done so for the past two years? Are the Franks back?

 

Two years ago, a large army of knights with white armor has attacked Zayn's village. The trail of destruction they'd left behind was as red as the cross on their shields and capes. Zayn and his family had survived but friends of his didn't.

 

Fearing for the safety of his parents and two sisters, Zayn urges his donkey on, but because donkey's are headstrong, his ride refuses to move faster. Grunting in frustration, Zayn swings one leg over the stubborn animal's head and slides from its back. He doesn't have time for this. He needs to get to his family as soon as possible.

 

Sharp rocks cut the soft skin of his feet as Zayn runs down the mountain path. The fear numbs the pain a little bit. Sweats is pouring down his back and face as he turns the last corner and he's at the edge of the village.

 

Zayn can hear cries of agony and fear, urging him to run even faster as he rushes towards his family. The houses he passes have all been attacked. They're doors are kicked in and their windows are broken. Pots and baskets are scattered over the street, broken or ripped apart. But the worst of all are the people lying amongst their possessions, most of them wounded and moaning in agony while others don't even move at all.

 

All Zayn can hear are the screams, drowning out his own heavy breathing. Panic urges his feet on as he get nearer and nearer towards his own house. He doesn't think about maybe bumping into an attacker and that's why he doesn't spot the horse on his right. He's only aware of its presence when it's suddenly in front of him, blocking his path.

 

White hot panic makes Zayn's skinny body tremble as he looks up at the rider. Anger chases the panic away when he sees the man is wearing white armor with a red cross on it. It's as Zayn'd feared, the Franks are back.

 

Franks have plagued these lands even before he was born. They'd set food in Jund Filastin even before Zayn's parents were born. For some reason, they believe this land belongs to them. It has something to do with their religion, his father had told him but he hadn't been able to tell his son more.

 

The knight asks Zayn something, a menacing gleam in his eyes but the eighteen-year-old can only understand the word ‘pouch'. That's enough however, for Zayn to know what he's saying. The knight doesn't have his visor down and he's looking at him with cold, calculating, blue eyes.

 

"No." Zayn's uses another word he's picked up from the number of Christian pilgrims that have traveled through his village on their way to Bethlehem. He looks at the Frankish knight with defiance in his eyes before making mad dive for freedom.

 

He tries to run passed the horse but the knight realizes what he's doing and urges the black stallion into Zayn's path again. The Frank chuckles at his failed attempt and leans a bit forward in an attempt to scare Zayn. Zayn isn't intimidated and glares back at his enemy.

 

"Money. Me," the knight says in broken Arabic. So, this army has tried to learn some of Zayn's mother tongue, which makes them different from the one Zayn's come across before. "No." The knight draws with his finger a line over his throat with an evil glint in his eyes. The brute is going to kill him if he doesn't give him the money.

 

"No," Zayn yells at the knight before trying to escape again. This time all the Frank does is urge his horse backwards, knocking Zayn to the side and against the wall of an house. Luckily for Zayn, he doesn't hit his head but his shoulder is aching as he scrambles as far away from the backside of the horse as possible.

 

And then, suddenly he realizes he's being stupid. He doesn't have to get passed the knight to get to his house. There's an alleyway nearby that's too small for a horse.

 

Zayn hurries to his feet and before the knight can stop him, Zayn runs back the way he just came. He can hear the sound of horse hooves just behind him as he ducks into the alley. He can hear the knight raise his voice in what must be a curse and as Zayn hurries down the alley, he can hear the knight gallop away. He's probably going to try to cut Zayn off. Luckily for him, that's not possible.

 

When Zayn emerges from the alley, it's into another destroyed street. But unlike the other one, its teaming with knights who are raiding one house after another. People are trying to stop the knights, some of them pleading to leave them alone but all resistance is met with an harsh hand. Anybody who tries to attack a knight, is killed in cold blood. One of them is Zayn's father.

 

"Dad," he screams out as he sees his father fall by the hand of a Frankish sword. He rushes towards his father who's lying crumpled on the ground and none of the knights stop him. That is, until he's reached the group of Franks that are still standing next to Umayyad Malik's body. One of them grabs a hold of his waist before he can fall to the ground next to his father.

 

\------

 

Richard watches his troops loot the houses but he doesn't lift a finger himself. All he does as he rides his horse through the village is keep an eye on his men. He doesn't want them to get into a frenzy and leave behind a massacre.

 

But up until now, the men have behaved properly, not killing anyone unless absolutely necessary. They've gotten a hold of a lot of food, which means Richard and his knights are going to have a enough food for weeks.

 

Suddenly, a skirmish catches the king's eye. A few feet away, one of his knights has an arm around a boy who's trying to get away from him. The boy is one of the most exquisite things Richard has ever set his eyes on. He has a tan skin and black hair. His eyes are the color of honey and his long, long lashes are wet with tears. He's only dressed in short, white trousers, leaving his skinny frame free for Richard's eyes to roam over. Even though his wiry muscles are a sight to behold, the king's eyes return to the boy's face because his cheekbones are an artwork all on their own and his lips are the kind that he would love to see around his cock.

 

The boy is trying to get out of the knight's arms but Richard doesn't understand why until he manages to tear his eyes away from the pinnacle of God's creation. On the ground at the feet of the other knights' there's a man lying dead in a puddle of blood.

 

Richard's eyes shoot back to the boy when much to everybody's surprise he manages to free himself from the knight's iron grip. He watches with sudden feeling of sadness as the boy falls down next to the older man and takes his father in his arms.

 

All of a suddenly, Richard can no longer fight to urge to come closer. He forces his horse to go nearer until he's reached the group of knights. They turn around in surprise and greet the king with a nod of their head.

 

Using the knights' sudden distraction, the boy jumps up from the ground and with a cry of pure hatred he attacks the nearest knight with a sword. He must have taken it from the dead man's cold hands.

 

Blessed with quick reflexes, the knight is able to turn around and deflect the attack. He knocks the sword from the boy's hands and puts his own sword to the younger male's throat so he can't make any sudden movements anymore.

 

"You shouldn't have done that. Now you're going to die just like the rest of your family," The knights taunts the angry boy. The boy's eyes flicker dangerously, a threat of murder in them that's only prevented from being followed through by the danger of immediate death. Apparently, the boy can understand enough French to understand what the knight is saying.

 

Even though he doesn't know the knight's name, Richard knows he's going to follow through with his own threat if he doesn't try to stop him. The king doesn't want the boy to die, so he interrupts the knight's rant. "I would rather you not kill this boy. He may be of use to us."

 

It's only now that the boy's eyes fall on the king and the older man can feel a flush come over him. He feels strong and weak at the same time. Richard has never felt this way before, he's never had this sensation when someone eyes had been on him.

 

"He tried to kill me," the knight hisses. "I want to make him pay for that."

 

"I understand what you're coming from," Richard tries to reason with the knight. He tears his eyes away from the boy's burning gaze and fixes them in the angry man. "And I would let you kill him if I didn't believe he could be of use to us. We can teach him our language and in return he can be our interpreter. He can help us with negotiations and understanding his people."

 

"A boy like him can't be trusted," another knight protests. This one is English. He looks at the boy with pure disgust before looking at his king again. "He tried to attack a man while his back was turned. I tell ya, it's no good trusting the likes of him."

 

"I will make him an offer he can't refuse." Richard is sure he can convince the beautiful boy to cooperate with them.

 

\------

 

If the Frank who's just saved Zayn's life thinks he's going to do anything he asks of him in gratitude, he's surely mistaken. There's no mistaking what the older man is going to want from him, with the way he'd looked at him only a few seconds ago. It's the same way that some of the men in this village have looked at him before. It hadn't been only his two sisters who'd felt their lustful gaze on them. Zayn would rather die than let the Frank have his way with him.

 

The knight says something else, his voice sharp with anger, which causes a shadow to pass over the other man's face. Even though Zayn doesn't understand a word he's saying the meaning is clear as is the reply that follows. The knight riding the horse is going to murder the other knight if he ever says it again.

 

Zayn turns his head towards his childhood home. Behind that door are his mother and sisters, dead and probably raped. Zayn can feel bile rising at the back of his throat. The anger that's been boiling inside of him solidifies and attaches itself to his heart. It's the only things that feels warm as coldness spreads through the rest of his body.

 

"Name," a voice suddenly says in broken Arabic and Zayn turns his head again. His eyesight is blurry but he can see the knight on the horse is looking at him. The Frank wants to know his name.

 

"Zayn," tells the knight, no emotion audible in his voice.

 

The knight gestures Zayn to come closer. The knight that still has his sword to Zayn's throat lowers it and grabs a hold on the younger male's upper arm, as if Zayn still has the will to escape. Doesn't he realize Zayn has nothing to escape to? His family is dead. He's lost everything.

 

When the knight has dragged Zayn in front of the other knight he lets go of Zayn but remains standing right behind him so he can't run away. Zayn looks up at the knight on horseback with a blank expression.

 

"You ride with Liam," the knight tells Zayn. He looks at Zayn with stern but dare he say it kindness in his eyes. "I king. I help safety."

 

Of course the other knight's a king. Zayn had been able to tell by the way the man held himself that he is different than the other knights. His brown eyes held a nobility that the other men's lacked.

 

The king's eyes search the street before they come to a standstill. "Liam," he calls out and he begins to wave to someone behind Zayn.

 

Only a few second later, a fifth Frank joins the group pf knights. This knight has big, brown eyes that makes Zayn think of young puppies. What does someone looking like that in a place like this. Zayn wonders. "My King?"

 

Zayn pays no longer attention to what the king is saying. He's just giving this Liam instructions. Instead, he just waits for them to finish.

 

When the two of them are done talking, Liam gestures for Zayn to come forward much like the king had done and this time the knight standing behind him allows him to walk on his own. But he does follow him and when he's standing right next to Liam's horse, the knight grabs him by his waist and hoists him up unto Liam's horse and right in front of the knight.

 

Liam puts his arms around Zayn's waist before grabbing a hold of the reins again. The armor doesn't feel too cold against Zayn's sunburned back thanks to the white surcoat.

 

The king tells Liam something else who nods his head and urges his horse to start moving again. Zayn doesn't say or feel anything as they make their way down the street. 

 

\-------

 

The boy doesn't try to escape, not once. Liam is surprised even though he's happy he doesn't have inflict pain on the boy that caught the king's attention. He can understand why his friend wanted to spare this poor human's life. He's very pretty indeed.

 

All the boy, who the king told him is called Zayn, does is stare at the small road that stretches out in front of them. Maybe he's tricking Liam into letting his guard down and I will try to escape when Liam isn't paying attention.

 

Having this boy in the camp is going to bring difficulties. Every knight is going to worry Zayn is going to try to kill them in their sleep as revenge for what happened to his village and Liam is going to be one of them. Liam doesn't trust Zayn as far as he can throw him and with good reason. Those Muslims are vicious creatures, heretics and murderers. You can't trust any of them.

 

However, Liam wasn't going to refuse his king anything. He hadn't only swore allegiance to him as his ruler but also as his friend.

 

It doesn't take Liam too long to reach the main camp. Within an hour, he's stirring his horse between the tents towards that of the king. When he's reached it, two guards walk up to Liam's horse. They have confused looks in their eyes as they discover Liam hasn't returned alone.

 

"This boy is the king's prisoner," Liam tells the guards as one of them takes Liam's reigns. As the king's right hand, Liam is their superior. "He's going to be sleeping in the tent next to the king's. The must be two guards in front of his tent at all times and he's only allowed to leave if he takes one of the guards with him."

 

"So, the king has found himself a new fuck toy?" one of the guards snickers as he eyes Zayn. The dark boy still looks at his surrounding with an emotionless face.

 

"Don't speak about the king like that," Liam warns the guard as he looks at him with angry eyes. Even though the rumors about King Richard are true, nobody is allowed to comment on it. As far as his people know, the king his perfectly normal and happily married. "Unless you want to see yourself hang."

 

The grin disappears from the guard's face immediately and he starts to stammers his apologies. "I didn't mean it, Sir. I was just joking."

 

"Well, the joke isn't very funny, so you should not make it again." The threat is clear beneath the badly veiled warning. "Now, help the boy down."

 

The guards help Liam get Zayn off of the horse before he gets off himself. Liam gives the guard a nod, who releases the hold he had on Zayn's upper arm. Liam takes Zayn by the wrist and when one of the guards has led the horse away, he pulls Zayn towards his tent.

 

He walks into the tent and sets Zayn down on the bed. Keeping Zayn in the corner of his eye, Liam starts to search the tent for rope. King Richard has told him to bind Zayn's hands so he won't escape.

 

When he's found a piece of rope lying around, he kneels in front of Zayn and starts binding his hands together. The Muslim boy once again doesn't try to overpower Liam, he just let it happen while he murmurs some Arabic phrases. Liam doesn't understand any of them.

 

Liam checks of the rope is secure enough before he gets to his feet again. He doesn't say anything as he turns around and walks out of the tent.

 

\----

 

After Liam has left, Zayn finally allows himself to cry. His vision starts to swim as tears start flowing down his cheeks. The last time he cried he'd felt terrible, like his heart was ripped out of his chest but this time he doesn't feel anything. He still feels only numbness, like all the feeling has been cut out of him.

 

Suddenly, Zayn feels tired, so tired that he needs to lie down. He props his legs up on the bed and lies down on his back. Because of the numbness it takes Zayn a few seconds to realize something is digging into his hip.

 

It must be his pouch. With much more effort than usual, Zayn removes the small leather sack from where he'd tied it to his trousers and lays it on his stomach. With trembling fingers, Zayn opens it and pulls out the bottle of medicine. The small, glass container has a big large crack down the side and all of the liquid has disappeared. It must have happened when he was pushed against the wall by that horse's rear.

 

Just like his life, just like him, the blue tube that was supposed to save his family is broken. They don't function the way they're supposed to any more. The vile can no longer hold liquid, his life no longer counts for anything and he's no longer whole. His family was murdered and now he's the prisoner of the man that is responsible for their death.


End file.
